He knows the police hate snitches.

He was a heavy heroin user (as were many jazzers of the "cool school&quot , and was busted a couple of times, even spending time in prison. But the one thing he would not do is reveal the name of his supplier, even if it meant the police would go easy on him.

But the police were truly impressed with his refusal and had a respect for him not extended to other heroin addicts.

Incidentally, if you're interested in bios of 1950s jazz musicians, I'd also recommend "Deep in a Dream: the Long Night of Chet Baker," but whatever you do, read Chet's bio before you read Art's: what Pepper did in life makes Baker's look like a church picnic!

I came upon a wreck and the Hiway Patrolman who was flagging the traffic I knew and I stopped and got out and said hi to him over the top of my car and we exchanged pleasantries and I got back in and as I started to drive off he wanted to tell me that he was bringing his car in for service and there was something about it that he wanted me to check out while it was on the over head rack. Instead of my getting out and talking to him over the top of the car I just hit the window button and he came up to tell me that, well I'd just smoked a doobie and he smelled it and being the professional patrolman he was he asked me to pull over to the side of the road as he wanted to talk to me. I pulled over off the road as he told me and he pointed me to his passenger door of his car and said I'll be right there as soon as this wrecker gets this car out of the way so traffic can proceed without a problem. As soon as that was the case he came and sit in the drivers seat and we started talking. He told me he smelled the pot and that he knew I smoked as he had smelled it on my before when he'd brought his car in for service and a washing. Anyway he asked me if I'd tell him who was bringing the pot into the area and I told him that I had no idea and if I did it would more than likely be one of my friends and I wasn't going to snitch. We continued our visit as we'd known each other for several years before I went into the service so we had some catching up to do. Where I worked we serviced their cars and they all knew me as I knew them. They knew me as a good hard working kid that was drafted and joined the Navy instead and still wound up being stationed in country Vietnam. As I was getting out of the car he said hold on a second so I set back down and he extended his hand to shake mine as he knew i was just home from VN and wanted to wish me luck in life then he said something I'll never forget. He still had my hand in his and he said to me, David thank you for the answer you gave me concerning my question of who is bringing in the pot and saying to me that you didn't know and that if you knew that it more than likely would be one of your friends and that you weren't going to be a snitch. He said to me I respect you for that. I got out of his car and went to mine and went on my merry way. The next day he brought his patrol car in for servicing like he said and said don't forget to check out the noise that he had asked me too the night before. I checked out the noise he asked me too and it was something in the muffler and I told him and he said he'd take it into the carpool and have them to put a new muffler on it and that was that. So yes good cops don't like snitches
True story

Hammer, meet nail!



Bake

The drug war relies on this tactic. It's vile and insidious.

"If you don't tell us who sold you this bag of weed, you're going to prison for 10 or 20 years, and we'll make sure you have Bubba as a cell mate."

On the other hand, there are professional snitches, informants for pay. They are lower than snake shit. Those snitches deserves to end up in ditches.

The war on drugs has really jaundiced my view of policing and the criminal justice system.

...which kind of completes the circle. And ratting out a fellow con will likely get you out of prisnon - in a coffin.